Between Deadline and Glances

I walked back to my desk, casting a quick peek into Mr. Lavigne's office as I passed. He was already there, seated at his desk, fully immersed in whatever was on his computer screen. He glanced up briefly—just enough to acknowledge my presence, as if to silently say: I know you're there in case I need something.

I took my seat and placed my phone on the desk, trying to calm the excited thudding in my chest. Tonight was the night. I was finally going out again—with Max. Who knew where she'd take me this time?

I jumped a little when I heard the sound of thick folders thumping against my desk.

"Same as yesterday," Mr. Lavigne said, his tone clipped. "Check the contracts for errors. Sort them—urgent and non-urgent." Without another word, he turned and left.

He wasn't in a good mood today.

Was it because of what happened earlier? Or was it something to do with Marco?

I let out a long sigh, blowing the air out of my lungs like it had been trapped since yesterday.

I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

There was a mountain of documents on my desk—if I didn't keep pace, I might be stuck here until nightfall. No, I told myself. Tonight with Max is non-negotiable. I worked carefully, reading through each page, making sure I didn't miss a single mistake.

Contract after contract. Most of them were job placements and hiring agreements. From what I could gather, the company that dad runs is a large human resource agency. They help people—usually with limited access to high-paying jobs—get placed in factories, malls, logistics hubs, and even private estates. Everything was documented: contracts, wage agreements, employment terms, client demands. The sheer volume of legal paperwork was overwhelming, but oddly fascinating too.

Time passed unnoticed—like the ticking clock had muffled itself under the weight of deadlines. By the time I looked up again, it was almost 6 PM.

Mr. Lavigne was still in his office, locked in his quiet bubble of productivity. He hadn't eaten—at least, I hadn't seen him take a break. Just the occasional coffee request. Two, maybe three cups max. Was that all he lived on?

That's… kind of intense. I couldn't survive like that.

I had already called Max earlier, making sure she knew the good news: Dad had allowed me to go out, as long as Kenny came along.

"Of course you'd have a chaperone," Max had laughed on the call. "I'm not even surprised."

I rolled my eyes at the memory. Still, it was better than being stuck in a cage called home. I had texted Kenny, letting him know I'd be heading out at 6. I also forwarded the restaurant bar's address—Max had sent it to me earlier.

Now I was down to the final document.

Once done, I gathered all the folders neatly and stood up. I took a deep breath before heading toward Mr. Lavigne's office. I wonder what mood he's in now? I thought nervously.

I knocked twice.

He nodded toward the door, silently allowing me in.

He was still typing on his computer. I walked in and stopped by his desk. He glanced up at me, then at the folders, then back to my face. Our eyes met.

For a brief second, I felt something strange—like déjà vu.

His presence… the way he looked at me… it reminded me of Andreis. Of Angelo. That same intense aura—unreadable yet piercing.

"I'm done with everything," I said, placing the folders gently on his table. "Just wanted to ask if there's anything else you need before I go. If not, I was hoping to clock out early… I have somewhere important to be."

I tried to sound professional, but I could hear the nerves in my own voice.

He frowned slightly, confused perhaps, then checked the time on his wristwatch—like he hadn't realized how late it had gotten.

"Something urgent at home?" he asked, his tone curious but calm.

"No… I'm meeting my best friend at a restaurant bar. It's my first time going out, so I'm really excited," I added with an awkward laugh, then immediately regretted oversharing.

His head tilted to the side. His expression unreadable. Not annoyed… but not exactly pleased either.

He didn't speak. He just stared at the small clock on his desk, pressing the tip of his pen against his lips thoughtfully.

The silence stretched.

"I–I'm sorry," I stammered. "Do you need anything else before I go?"

He looked up again, this time locking eyes with me.

"No," he replied. "You going alone?"

"Ah—no, I'm with Kenny. My bodyguard," I clarified quickly.

Something shifted in his face. The tension faded slightly, replaced by a soft smile. It was the first one I'd seen from him all day.

"Okay then," he said, that rare smile still lingering. "Enjoy."

I smiled back, thankful, and turned to leave.

Back at my desk, I gathered my things, tucked my phone into my bag, and paused.

I leaned down and inhaled the scent of the flowers Mom had sent earlier—the soft fragrance of peonies filled my chest with warmth. Then, as I stood and turned, I caught movement in the corner of my eye.

Mr. Lavigne was standing by his office door, leaning casually against the frame with his hands in his pockets.

Watching me.

He didn't speak. Just stood there, as though he had been observing me for a while. There was something unreadable in his gaze again—something unsaid.

I gave him a small smile, more out of instinct than confidence, then walked out.

Why does he look at me like that? Like he always has something he wants to say… but never does.